


Quite Possibly the Most Ridiculous Story About a Detective, Doctor, and Criminal

by WalkTheStarsWithMe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Betaed, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Drunk John, Drunk Sherlock, Dubcon Kissing, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, I Don't Even Know, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkTheStarsWithMe/pseuds/WalkTheStarsWithMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The recently published account documenting the events of the “Curious Incident in the Dark of the Jackass” is absolute rubbish, complete bollocks, and wholesomely inaccurate.</p><p>The great internet sensation that arose from this – namely, the multiple photos that depicted a certain detective and his doctor/blogger/soldier/companion onsites such as Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook – is indeed true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite Possibly the Most Ridiculous Story About a Detective, Doctor, and Criminal

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Charlotte of thebetaservice on Tumblr! Thanks for betaing this fic!  
> As for everyone else, enjoy this remake of the original _Ridiculous Story_!
> 
>  
> 
> **\--Alder, a.k.a. WalkTheStarsWithMe**

**Author’s Note:**

The recently published account documenting the events of the “Curious Incident in the Dark of the Jackass” is absolute rubbish, complete bollocks, and wholesomely inaccurate.

The great internet sensation that arose from this – namely, the multiple photos that depicted a certain detective and his doctor/blogger/soldier/companion on sites such as Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook – is indeed true; it cannot simply be disregarded and written off as a simple overreaction to “a blond British blogger binging on the beer,” as Prime Minister David Cameron famously said in a (failed) attempt to calm the whole of England.

After hours and hours of meticulous and thorough investigations into the lives of the people responsible for the Curious Incident,I am ecstatic, exhilarated, rapturous, giddy,and happy to deliver the true story to you now.

Without further ado, I present to you: the truest and quite possibly the most ridiculous story about a detective, doctor, and a criminal.

**-Kitty Riley**

\--#--

They were snogging.

That was all Sherlock could process in that moment of complete and utter shock. And it was the kind of shock not many can recover from. Not without sacrificing a bit of sanity, at least.

Except Sherlock probably had no more sanity to sacrifice because he was mad enough to begin with.

But seeing John pinned up against a wall and tongue-wrestling took away any hope of regaining sanity. Then, seeing _who_ he was snogging guaranteed that this day would be relived over and over, night after night, and he would still not quite fully understand it[1]. So he did what many people do when they are confronted with shock.

He froze.

Then took stock to process this better.

They had come here on a ‘case’ (or, that was all John could understand of Sherlock’s rapid, hundred-mile-per-hour spiel on a triple homicide in Surrey that was brilliant, fantastic, Christmas-come-early, marvelous, et cetera, et cetera) and the murderer was supposedly here. In the Jackass. In fact, he'd bet John he could solve the case while buzzed and if he did, John would have to guzzle down enough beer to get to that real nasty level of drunk where everything is swirly and dizzy.

 **Setting:** _The Honking Donkey, otherwise known as the Jackass, infamous for its constant raging parties and police visits that end up with drunk policemen pole-dancing._

 **Circumstances:** _Lots of people. Loud music. Bass pounding through the ground. Lots of booze-chugging. Lots of people on the floor snogging **[2]**. Sherlock is buzzed._

 **Defining circumstance:** _John is drunk. Very, very drunk. **[3]**_

That was all Sherlock could work out because right after seeing exactly who John was snogging, he was so outraged it felt as if his skin were steaming.

He thought: _John is mine._

He thought: _Person snogging him is person I do not want to snog him._

He thought _: I am going to destroy person._

But when he stormed closer to John, he felt a sense of familiarity around the guy John was snogging. This made him stop mid-stride, just a two steps away from them. He knew the person snogging John, he knew who it was, but a name didn’t spring to mind. Two words came instead: ‘consulting’ and ‘criminal’.

So he snarled, “you.”

And the person replied conversationally, “didn’t know you drink,” and made a show of dragging his tongue[4] across the length of John’s neck.

Sherlock was burning. He heard that sliver of sound John had made at the tongue on his neck. A sigh. He could see a growing bulge in John’s trousers.[5]

And then he recognized the dark hair and the deep-set eyes and the stubble of this guy who was snogging John.

“Moriarty,” Sherlock growled. But that was all he could do, because his brain was taking in the sight of John sprawled flat against the wall and happily snogging Jim Moriarty with touchy-feely enthusiasm. That is, if his hands hadn’t been pinned up above his head. And Sherlock was becoming more and more confused and he had no way of communicating his distress and confusion.[6]

  *          _John is not gay._
  *          _?But John ? is being¿ gay.?_
  *          **_? ¿???what¿ is ?John???¿?? ¿ ¿_**



Then his thoughts went FLNGHAQEIBM?;C: POD due to the fact that he was – to put it delicately – intoxicated.

And John was rutting up against Moriarty and Moriarty was rutting back,and there was lots of French-kissing and spit and other NC-17 things[7]. Sherlock tried to knock Moriarty over, but he inadvertently veered too far to the right due to lack of balance that was due to the drink. Rumor has it that a certain part of his anatomy touched Moriarty’s rear bumper.

Sherlock fell to the ground and was jostled by some drunk people laughing and splashing each other with tequila. He scrambled to his feet again and felt wetness on his back – he had landed in a puddle of booze. When he finally sighted John and Moriarty again, he saw them also on the floor, still at it. He saw Moriarty’s teeth sink into the flesh under John’s jaw and charged forward, bending his leg back and slamming his foot into Moriarty’s side.

There was only one thought in his head:

Moriarty grunted, rose up, and they started to throttle each other, trying to tear the other apart. It was like a game of Slaps[8], only instead of slapping the other person’s hand until it was red and raw they were slapping each other’s faces. Sherlock smelled the booze on Moriarty’s breath and thus concluded that all three of them were drunk, the least of which was Sherlock himself.

Then John was on top of Sherlock and his hands were jittering as they dug into his hips and Sherlock felt a certain part of John’s anatomy touch his ass and he was pretty sure that John didn’t exactly have his trousers all the way up.[9] Then John started pressing hard. And through a haze of drunkenness Sherlock figured that John should know who exactly was on top.

So he forgot about the fight and rolled around so John was under him.

It took a moment, but Sherlock seized a bottle of beer from a nearby table and guzzled it down for courage, then got on all fours and rammed his lips against John’s. His mouth tasted like pinot noir and whiskey and milk but it was glorious when their tongues slid against each other.

“Yer fuggin’ hawt, Sherlawhk,” John slurred, beer breath hitching when Sherlock’s lips probed his neck.

Then Moriarty shoved Sherlock aside and ran his hands up and down John’s sides and John made a slurred noise and shivered. Sherlock gawked as Moriarty bit down on John’s neck, earning himself a yelp. And then a hand went down John’s boxers and John made more slurred noises that Sherlock didn’t even know was within his vocal range.[10]

With that, Sherlock regained his senses and wrenched John away from Moriarty. John promptly spun about and yanked Sherlock into a spitty kiss that included but was not limited to: licking and feeling Sherlock up.[11]

Moriarty tugged John to the side and John simply gurgled, “I fuggin’ hade ya.” But he kissed the twisted criminal psychopath anyways, not caring that two guys were fighting over him and he was alternating between both while snogging. As far as he knew, it was all blurry and dizzy and wibbly-wobbly but it felt good so he stuck with it.

John was dragged off towards Sherlock and the people around them stopped dancing and snogging when they recognized the blond and the brunet who were snogging. Clicks went off. Their snogging would be immortalized on the internet within 2.3 seconds.

Sherlock looked round for Moriarty but Moriarty was gone.

And in that moment it all came together.

Moriarty’s goal wasn’t to cause havoc like he always had.

It was so simple, really: lure them to the Jackass, get John drunk enough to snog, snog him to anger a buzzed Sherlock, and the rest is history.

Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and ran, stumbling through the crowd of people still partying. When theyemerged from the half-light of the bar, the cold air made him shiver. John was leaning on him, half-asleep as they got in a cab and sped away to Baker Street.

When they got there, John promptly crashed on the couch. Sherlock staggered to the front door, shoving a table up against it.

In about 13.9 minutes, the press would be on them. With all the wrong ideas.

They had to be ready for the coming storm.

* * *

 

[1]In fact, _nobody_ will ever understand. But they’ll talk. A lot.

[2] Or shagging.

[3] Some say that one guy had a Breathalyzer and that John Watson blew .29.

[4] A tongue is actually a meat tentacle and apparently people find meat tentacles on their throats sexy.

[5] Something was rising, but it wasn’t Jesus.

[6] The most reliable way is to yell “I’M SO CONFUSED” but it is not worth losing your dignity.

[7] But if you must know, it involved what you’d call an under-the-bra experience if John were a woman and lots of trouser-grabbing.

[8] In Slaps, two people face each other and hold hands like they’re arm-wrestling. With their free hands they take turns slapping each other’s hands until one lets go. This is ~~unfortunately~~ banned in every school on the planet.

[9] His underpants probably weren’t either

[10] Don’t tell Sherlock but I recorded a few of them.

[11] And yes, that earned John a spank.


End file.
